It Could Be
by BaltimoreAngel
Summary: She exhaled shakily, looking back down at her magazine. Her hands were shaking, and her voice was trembling with barely concealed emotion. "It's everything."


disclaimer: i don't profit in any way from House, MD

* * *

Somehow, in a way that escaped him, Gregory House found himself standing in front of Cameron's door, hand poised to knock. His blue eyes rolled in their lids and he lowered his hand, instead smacking the door once, twice, three times with his cane.

The muffled noise of the TV that had been going on in the room behind the door was silenced, and the soft sound of footsteps hitting the floor grew louder and louder until the click of the sliding lock sounded and the door opened a fraction. A set of wary brown eyes regarded him through the small space, before they rolled and the door opened further. "Yes?" Cameron asked, her voice cold. "Can I help you? Because I think that you might have the wrong house."

"Really?" He furrowed his brow, and she felt a sarcastic comment coming on. Sure enough, House said, "Are you sure? Because I was pretty sure that a colleague of mine lives here. She's a...well, actually, she looks exactly like you!" He rose an eyebrow in mock questioning. "Are you _sure_ that she doesn't live here?"

She sighed, and began to close the door. House's signature cane, however, stopped the door from closing all the way. She leaned her forehead against the door, sighing. "What do you want with me, House?"

"I want you..." She lifted her head from the door, raising an eyebrow in interest. "...to let me into your apartment. The coloring of the walls in this hallway doesn't match my complexion, and the woman down the hall is beginning to give me dirty looks."

From his side of the door, there was another dull thud as she hit her forehead against the door again. Soon after, however, the door opened all the way and he had a rather magnificent view of her backside as she walked back to her table. He entered the apartment, nodding slightly as his eyes surveyed every nook and cranny. "Nice place you got here," he said, limping over to the island in her kitchen.

"Thanks," she said, not looking up from the issue of _Vogue_ that she was skimming, her hands distractedly flipping through the pages. "I like it. Too bad I have to give it up when I move."

"Moving?" He walked around the island so that he couldstand against the other counter and have the island separate them at the same time. "To where?" He snapped his fingers together, then pointed them at her. "You're moving down the hall, aren't you?" He sighed, inclining his head towards the side slightly. "I knew it. How coul y-"

"To Seattle," she said, flipping another page. "You know, it's that city? In Washington? As in, nowhere near here?" She shook her head. "I'm so sick of this place. It's absolutely tiring." She shook her head. "I'm going to miss Foreman, Wilson, Cuddy and Chase...well, maybe Chase not so much. But it's not going to be fun just packing up and leaving. But," she gave a sigh. "I have to. I can't go back there."

He leaned against the counter, his cane positioned between his feet and his hands folded over the grip. She was doing her best to avoid making eye contact with him, whereas she was normally in his face and trying to get him to look at her. And, of course, now that he was, she didn't want anything to do with him. He tilted his head, rubbed his scruffy face unconciously, and regarded her with those icy eyes. And then he _looked_ at her.

Her brown hair had lost some of the shimmer that had lived in it before, and her eyes were lined by crinkles; either laugh lines or tired ones, he couldn't tell. And the bags under her eyes were prominant above her sunken in cheeks. But the eyes she was trying so hard to hide still glittered in a delicate way. And, for once, he saw Allison, not Cameron. "Come back."

She looked up, startled. "I can't."

"Why not?" He rolled his eyes. "Is it because of me? That's nothing. Might be something."

"It's nothing," she agreed, looking up at him. "But it's not something."

He furrowed his brow, confused by her logic. "So...if it's not _nothing_, and it isn't _something_...that leaves us with what?"

She exhaled shakily, looking back down at her magazine. Her hands were shaking, and her voice was trembling with barely concealed emotion. "It's everything."

And the glitter in her eyes faded out completely.

* * *

Allison shifted in her sleep, somehow rolling closer to him, if such a thing were possible. House's right leg was groaning in protest at the slight weight that she was providing. His hand, however, glided across her smooth, naked shoulder as his eyes stared up at her ceiling.

Somehow, it had just started out as a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, an already out of character move for House. Then, she had looked up at him with such a pathetic looking face that he had sat down on the stool next to her and wrapped an arm around her. She had leaned into him, a tear slipping down her face. He had rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. After a few minutes of this action, he had turned his head to say something to her...at the exact same time that she had leaned up to give him a small, rather brave, kiss on the cheek. The kiss had landed two inches away from it's destination, and somehow they found themselves on her bed about fifteen minutes later.

And that left them here.

She made a strange whimpering noise in her sleep, and he lifted his hand to the back of her head and pushed it into the crook of his shoulder. She inhaled against his skin and, almost as if she realized that her right leg was beginning to press a bit too tightly against his own, shifted her legs around so that it caused him no more discomfort.

He smirked. Even in her sleep, she was nice.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, and then began staring at the ceiling again.

So it wasn't nothing.

But it sure as hell was something.

And maybe...someday...it could be everything.

**_THE END_**


End file.
